Chapter 3: The Reunion
The day of Harry' retrieval came almost too soon. Ginny dreaded it with every fiber of her being, hoping and praying that she wouldn't make a complete and total fool out of herself in front of the boy. She knew that she would, however, so there was no point in even hoping. She was a failure at dealing with people who she l... "Shut up!" Ginny screamed in her mind, before the L-word emerged.
"Honestly, I'm going out with Dean now. There's no time for me to moon over Harry Potter," Ginny told herself sternly, trying to push all thoughts of Harry out of her mind. It didn't work; he was, and always would be, there.
Finally, she gave up with a sigh and began getting ready for the day ahead. She was sure that it would be simply dreadful, but, as she had come to learn, life was not always so grand.
After a quick shower and breakfast, Ginny and Ron were off to Privet Drive. They had decided to floo in despite Harry's warning, since they really didn't know what this "stroke" thing was. "Number Four Privet Drive," Ginny said firmly, throwing a bit of floo powder into the Burrow's fireplace. The flames immediately turned green and, without a bit of hesitation, Ginny stepped into them.
She was only in Number Four for a few minutes before Vernon Dursley was upon her like a vulture. "How dare you!" he shrieked in indignation, his face merely inches from her own. Ginny pulled back in disgust; she didn't want him to spit on her, as that's what it seemed like he would do.
"Hey Harry, we're here!" Ron called from behind her. Ginny backed up a little and grabbed onto her brother's hand. She wasn't afraid of the large man, but she had a feeling that he would be able to snap her like a twig. She shoved a hand in her pocket and grabbed onto the comforting presence that was her wand, knowing that it would keep her safe.
"Coming Ron!" a voice shouted. Ginny looked up to see Harry standing at the top of the stairs. She gasped and covered her eyes as they brimmed with tears. She would not cry in front of him, that she had promised herself, but to do that would mean leaving right then.
He looked so awful. She could see the bones jutting out of his neck, his back, his hips, and his cheeks. There were dark circles under his once-gorgeous green eyes. All of the happiness and, well, life that they had once held was gone. He looked as though he hadn't eaten, slept, talked, cried, smiled, or felt happy at all since he left Hogwarts.
"Ron," she hissed, "I'm going home." And with that, she turned on her heel, threw floo powder into the fire, said "The Burrow," and jumped in.
The moment she reached the safety of the Burrow fireplace, Ginny scrambled to her feet and ran upstairs, oblivious to the look of horror plastered on each and every one of the other Weasleys' faces.
She reached her room as quickly as possible, and the minute the door was closed and she had her head in her fluffy pillow, she dissolved into tears.
Harry was stunned. Ginny Weasley was the very same Ginny she had been on that day at Platform 9¾, but there was something different about her. She wasn't any prettier; she had always been fairly attractive. She wasn't any taller; she was done growing at 5'6 or so. She just radiated something, some kind of special energy that drew him towards her.
"Coming Ron!" he shouted over the noise of Uncle Vernon screaming at the two Weasleys. Three pairs of eyes turned to him in that instant.
The look of horror on her face was not missed. He didn't get a chance to catch Ginny's eye, for she had already threw her hands up over her eyes. "Am I really that hideous?" Harry asked himself, any good spirits that he had been in gone.
His mood was made even worse when Ginny, still not looking at him, turned around, whispered something in Ron's ear, and flooed out of there as quickly as possible.
"Uncle Vernon," Harry said, loudly and authoritatively, once he had regained his composure. "Please stop yelling at Ron. He's taking me to the Burrow now, so you needn't continue." Harry flashed Ron a pleasant (and quite fake) smile as he descended the rest of the steps two at a time.
When he reached Ron's side, he gave the boy a brotherly hug and then held out his hand for some floo powder. "Haven't missed me then, have you?" Ron asked, trying to make a joke. Harry laughed lightly, but this too was manufactured. He could tell that the joking tone in Ron's voice had been fake as well; he could hear an underlying tone of worry and surprise over Ginny's actions. Harry felt the same way.
"I have actually. I just want to get out of this house as fast as I can," Harry replied as Ron reached into a leather bag at his waist and grabbed out some floo powder. Harry tightened his grip on his suitcase as he took the offered floo powder and made a quick escape into the world of the Burrow.
He could see in their eyes that Ginny had come through here. Molly, Arthur, Bill, George, and Fred; all of them were looking fairly stunned and horrified. "Harry?" Molly asked, her voice cracking near the end of his name. A tear snuck out of the corner of his eye as he dropped his trunk, walked over and gave Mrs. Weasley a light squeeze.
"It's good to see you Mrs. Weasley," Harry whispered in her ear as he moved on to the next person in the family. Arthur Weasley clapped Harry on the back and said something about how nice it was to see him again. Bill Weasley, obviously more shaken than the others by what Ginny had just done, simply shook Harry's hand and said nothing. Fred and George both flashed Harry one of their signature mischievous grins, but Harry knew that this whole thing was manufactured to make him feel better.
With a sigh and a final hello, Harry grabbed his trunk and made his way upstairs to the room he would be sharing with Ron.
Ginny cried for a long, long time. She wasn't sure quite how long; she lost track of time within 10 or 15 minutes of her arrival. She had tried to stop many times, but Harry's figure kept appearing in front of her eyes.
There he was, tall and thin and without a sliver of hope or happiness. She couldn't get the picture out of her head, and every time it came up she burst into a fresh round of tears.
She had no idea how much pain Harry must have been in. She had no idea how awful his brief stay with the Dursleys had been. All she knew was that he was desperately sad, alone, and altogether afraid. She wanted to comfort him, to hold him in her arms and stroke his hair. "It'll be okay," she longed to whisper into his hair, inhaling the smell of him.
But she knew that she would never be able to. Just to look at him brought on a fit of crying. How could she hold him or be near him? If she hugged him, she knew that she would feel the bones in his back and shoulders grating painfully against her skin. And, she knew that she wouldn't be able to stand it. She would break down, and Harry had no need of that.
The worst of her crying was over before anyone came in to check on her. It was, of course, Bill who came in first. He was the closest to her out of all of her siblings, except for Ron. However, he was much less thick and much more tactful than all of her siblings combined.
"Ginger," he whispered softly into her hair as he held her. Just sitting there with his arms around her brought on another fit of tears, but finally it was over, and she pulled away from Bill's comforting arms.
"Did you see him Bill?" Ginny asked softly, choking on her words. Bill nodded and began rubbing Ginny's back in slow circles. "Oh god Bill, how am I going to stand it? He looks so...so alone, so unhappy. Did you see the bones, Bill? I could very well have stood there, tracing them from halfway across the room. Did you see them, did you?" she asked. She knew she was rambling on, but she couldn't help it.
"Yeah, I know Ginny. I saw it too. I understand." That was all he needed to say, and he held out his arms for her. She took a shaky breath and shook her head.
"No Bill, that's enough comforting me for now. I need to figure out a way to deal with this. I may just have to find someone else to partner with."
Bill gave her a disapproving look and shook his head. "You can't do that to him, Gin. He wanted to come, you know? It'd break his heart into even more pieces than it already is." Bill paused there, took a breath just as shaky as the one she just had, and continued. "But I believe in you Ginger. You've overcome more than this before; you can do it again."
The next one to come in was her mother. Something much the same happened with Molly Weasley, and something similar to that happened with Arthur Weasley. The twins had tried to cheer her up; they had even extracted a worn smile from her.
It was Ron's visit, however, that really did her in.
He stormed into the room, looking as though he had just come from an encounter with Draco Malfoy. "HOW DARE YOU!" he yelled, his words reverberating off the walls of her room. She was sure that everyone from here to Australia had heard him shouting.
"How dare you do that to him?" Ron said again, his voice now just above a whisper. "He was so worried, so unhappy, so hateful. He thought you were repulsed by him, Gin. He didn't take kindly to that little scene you made. Can't you ever act with maturity, just once?"
The twig snapped. Ginny was mad, and a Weasley in a full-blown rage was not something most people experience often.
"Ronald Billius Weasley," Ginny began, her voice dripping with venom. "I would advise you not to reprimand me for something that was not wrong. Did you perchance notice, Ron, that your best friend looks like walking death?"
"Do you were repulsed then?" Ron asked.
"HOW DARE YOU EVEN SUGGEST SUCH A THING, YOU BLOODY GIT!" Ginny screamed, jumping off the bed and tackling Ron to the ground. "I was horrified Ron. I had promised not to cry in front of him and make his load heavier, but I couldn't help it, okay? What do you think I've been doing here in my room for hours, writing a Potions essay?"
When Ron didn't answer, she did not continue. She waited for it to dawn on him. Once she saw the recognition in his eyes, she began again.
"Did you see it Ron? His bones are jutting out so far that I could stand on them! The circles under his eyes are black as night. And did you see the bruise on his arm, partially hiding underneath the edge of his shirt? Did you? His uncle did not do that to him."
She waited, and Ron's eyes softened. He was going to cry too, and she would start up again with him.
"And his eyes, oh god Ron, his eyes! He looked as though all hope, all life was gone. He looked like a zombie, a living dead, someone with no soul left in their bodies! He looked like a dementor had come to his house and performed the Kiss on him during the night! How could I do anything but run home and cry?"
"Oh Ginny," Ron whispered, his heart stuck in his throat. And then, he cried. They wrapped their arms around each other, reveling in the comforting embrace that they shared. Ron's head was on Ginny's shoulder, and her head was on his. They were crying, both of them, and Ginny didn't know whether she would be able to stop.
"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley called from downstairs. Ron and Ginny immediately split apart and stood at arms-length, staring at each other.
"Are you...?" Ron didn't finish, but she knew what he was going to ask, and shook her head.
"I...I can't Ron, you know? Maybe you could, um, bring me some food?" Ron nodded and smiled a little, trying to make her feel better. And now, finally, she really did. Just sitting there in Ron's arms, both of them crying, had made her feel much better. However, the tears were still lurking behind her eyes, and she knew they would escape the moment Harry came into her field of view.
They all told him not to go, but he didn't listen. "She needs her rest," Arthur had said.
"She's just not feeling good; I think she wants to be left alone," George and Fred said. Ron and Bill echoed that statement, as did Molly and the aforementioned Mr. Weasley. But Harry would not be swayed. He, somehow, had caused her anguish, and he needed to know why.
"Take her this then," Ron said, shoving a full plate of food into Harry's hands. He nodded in agreement and slowly scaled the steps.
He reached Ginny's room and rapped lightly on the door. When there was no answer, he tried the doorknob. He found, none too surprisingly, that the door was unlocked. He opened it and walked inside, already beginning to talk. "Here Ginny," he said, "I brought you some dinner."
Ginny obviously thought he was Ron, because she responded as though she did. "Oh, thanks Ron. I'm sorry that I couldn't come down to dinner, but you know..." She had turned around during this statement, and had finally caught sight of who was actually standing on her doorstep.
With a cry, she turned back around and flopped down on the bed. Harry was mortified to realize that she was crying. He gently set the plate of food down on her nightstand and sat himself down on the bed. He began stroking her back, trying to calm her erratic sobs.
For some reason, however, that only made it worse.
Harry was struck dumb when Ginny began crying even harder. Last time he had checked, rubbing a girl's back usually made them feel better. "Ginny?" he asked, leaning towards her and whispering in her ear. It took her a few minutes to acknowledge him, but finally the sobbing did stop.
Without turning her face from the pillow, Ginny began to talk. "Yes Harry?" she asked, obviously waiting for him to ask her the question she knew that he wanted to ask.
"Ginny, what did I do?" His voice was low, and sounded a lot sadder than it usually did. He wasn't quite sure why though.
"You didn't eat all summer, Harry." He didn't understand. How did she know that he hadn't eaten? And he had eaten, although not nearly enough. Why did it make any difference to her whether he ate or not? They were friends, yeah, but did it really warrant such a response.
"And you've been hurting yourself Harry." She let silence hang in the air for a moment, broken only by Harry's gasp of surprise, and then continued. "I saw the bruise Harry, and I know that your uncle didn't do that to you."
Suddenly, Ginny was up, her face turned towards him once again, fire burning in her eyes. "Honestly Harry, how could you? You're skin and bones!" She stuck out a hand and jabbed his ribcage. He yelped; it hurt when she touched it.
She withdrew her hand instantly, and for a moment there was a look of remorse on her face. Then, the fire was back, and she was railing on him again. This time, however, she took to jabbing him in a place with some more skin, like his stomach.
"You know what you did Harry? For one thing, you obviously ate nearly nothing at the Dursleys' house, and I think you did it on purpose. Second, you've been hitting yourself; I can tell. Third, have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror Harry?" When he nodded, she shook her head.
"No Harry, I mean really looked into your own eyes in the mirror. There used to be life in those eyes, Harry. You used to be a strong, brave, and wonderful person who rose above all the bad happenings in your life and still managed to have fun. I admired you for it, Harry. You have no idea how hard the summer after the chamber was for me. And yet, I survived it, because you had done it, and so could I."
She took a breath there, letting what she had said sink in. He felt a surge of pride for having been the thing that helped Ginny get over her encounter with Tom Riddle. However, he had a feeling that the rest of this conversation would not be so complimentary.
"But now, now Harry? You're gone. You're not dead, but you might as well be. There's no life in your eyes. There's no happiness, no sadness, no laughter, no emotion whatsoever. All that's there is a lack of emotion, which really isn't anything at all. You look... you look like you've just received the Dementor's Kiss, Harry."
Harry was struck dumb. Dementor's Kiss...Sirius... he didn't want to think about it. He closed his eyes tightly shut, hoping that he could tune out her words by doing so.
Everything she said had been true. He hadn't been eating, purposefully, he hadn't any emotion, and he had most definitely been hurting himself.
It all started the day he came back from Platform 9¾. Something had happened, and he had gotten angry with himself. Then, Sirius had come to his mind, and he had gotten angry with that as well. Suddenly, he was so angry that he simply had to hit something. Not wanting to make a commotion and bring the Dursleys screaming up the stairs, he had hit himself.
It did much for him, this hitting. He could let out his anger, at Sirius, at himself, at Bellatrix Lestrange, at Voldemort, at his parents, at the Dursleys, everybody. It was almost soothing. The pain helped him deal with the loss. He knew that it wasn't really something he should be doing, but it helped, and that was all that mattered to him.
"You're not that wonderful boy anymore Harry. He's locked inside of you, waiting to come out, but you're not letting him. You're beating him into submission Harry, and I just couldn't handle it. You know, I had promised myself that I wouldn't cry in front of you. 'He doesn't need any more burdens, Ginny.'
But Harry, when I saw you there, looking like death itself, I couldn't help it. Where had that sweet, wonderful, courageous boy gone? I simply couldn't handle it. I'm surprised that I can even talk to you now; I've been crying all day." Now, she was truly finished.
Harry didn't know what to say. So he just sat there, waiting for something to happen. Thoughts swirled around and around in his head, and he kept getting angrier and angrier. Not at Ginny, but at himself. He, Harry Potter, was causing everyone else so much pain.
He wanted to kill himself. He wanted to beat himself to death, to die. That way, no one else would have his or her lives destroyed because of him.
So he raised his fist and began to hit his wrist. He started out hitting it lightly, which he knew was why Ginny hadn't made him stop. But, after a few minutes of that, the bruise could be seen, so he began hitting himself harder. The pain jabbed him like a knife each time his fist connected with the jutting bone of his wrist, but he kept at it.
Moments before the final blow, the one he knew would break the skin, Ginny grabbed his arm. He pushed against her fairly feeble grip, but her grasp was firm. Finally he looked up into her eyes, and the tears that lay pooled in the corners were his undoing.
They were coming, the tears, and she could see it. Ginny let go of his wrist and smoothly transitioned into holding him. She sat next to him on her bed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his neck. He let his arms fall into disuse around her waist, and buried his face in her hair.
And then he cried.